also top 5 things to do with sana
. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆. he’ll start from the back lifting her hair to kiss the nape of her neck like a thief out to undo her resolve. it is a whispering on her skin delighted by the way she quivers. and so hands go against her waist to catch her before she unravels. fingers playing the cloth into friction turn hands upward and bring them to rise on to her breasts slow in rhythm until fingers trace her lips. ________________ “ 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊 ,” he has her against the wall , disallowing her to see himself, his mouth commands in words and shifts that trail impish needs across her neck. ________________ “ 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊 , or i’ll play you” one hand stays rigid upon her waist the other dawning across her breasts, a tight grasp waiting for her to do as they had done before. he wanted his name from her mouth, he wanted the feel of himself in her mouth before he took her into his own. he wanted to be owned and he wanted to be hers. there is a drifting in him , and it elevates him to a station above what he usually was and so there is no fear of judgment as he kisses her shoulder blade nor watching of others he traces the run of her body. he will be everything in this moment commander, subject and innocent.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄.. he will pull from keats, from faiz ahmed, from his own works to set her amongst the most holy of things. he will kneel and he will take each one of her fingers in his mouth for her to feel the devotion in the words he speaks. she is the enchantress that has pulled prayers from his eyes , and ghazals from his flesh. he is spread out against her like a man seeing god for the first time. and he feels different almost as though he is becoming something completed as he pays reverence at the gate of her love. he flowers her spaces with the infatuations of urdu, the romantics of french and the heartbeat of latin so that she could slip worlds into her skin. he is wholly hers forever.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇. he takes her fingers and counts the scars emblazed upon his skin. one from his brother , two from his father and three from himself. it as though he were made to be broken in attempts to save others. she is one of the first to touch them tenderly as though they were gardens from which she’d grow something new. something of eden to bless his broken limbs into joy. she knows the drinking , the body thrown into others used bruised and left and she did not judge instead she gave him choices, improvements, and cast off the sin from his joints. he sits next to her as though filled with stars, illuminating and becoming. and so he gives her the rope to bind his hands, the cloth to cover his eyes and his body bare. he trusts her , and so he gives her full control over him. she would not break him, she would give him rivers.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓. he takes her off to set the burdens upon them into the fire. they are soulful, bright labyrinths of people wrongfully caught on the spikes of monsters in human husk and so they burn. they burn the way they were melded and fall as silver lakes drowning out the fraudulent commandments from godless men and they crown glory upon the weak. they are prophets for the forgotten, the moon and her star with faith found in the heart of themselves.
𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙁𝙏𝙃 𝙄𝙎 𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀. * @ivoryhearted